The Night Howler
by FrostedFeathers
Summary: Something is stalking the streets of Boston. With the police left clueless, the Winchester's take up the case. But things may turn out more complex than they originally thought. Set sometime after 'Like a Virgin.'
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello everyone! I'm back with another multi-chaptered fic! :) Really hope you guys enjoy this one as much as the last :) Thanks to **kissacazador **for reviewing the last drabble I did – her reviews are always consistently rewarding and really motivate me to keep writing! **

**Thanks too to **shock-blanket **my unofficial beta – she rocks!**

**Hope you guys enjoy this! I really hope to hear your thoughts! **

**The Night Howler**

By KansasAngel94

Patrick was making his way back home after a night out with his friends. He had stayed out long after his friends had gone home, chatting to some young lady, charming her with his strong Irish accent only to have her boyfriend – big, strong looking guy – show up and possessively put his arm around her waist, making it clear that if Patrick wanted to keep his face the way it was, he had better clear off.

He wasn't stupid, so he did.

He reached the end of the block, turning to face the street which, a few houses down, his apartment was located. But then he saw her. This blindingly beautiful woman standing at the corner of the road opposite him. She was wearing a knee-length dress that sat on her body like a waterfall, flowing and loose. Her hair was a dark brown, with a slight curl and reached her waist. Her skin had that sun-kissed glow that seemed to warm the air around her. Patrick stumbled across the deserted street towards the beauty. Her eyes gazed up at him – they were a bright shade of blue – that beautiful colour that exists in the eyes of heaven's most glorious angels.

"Hello beautiful." Patrick called out, turning on his Irish charm that had worked for him many times before, "Not often I see someone like you out this late at night."

She didn't say anything, a smile simply forming on her face.

"Hello?" He questioned – confused by the woman's lack of response. "You have a name?"

Still, she said nothing.

Patrick gazed at her questioningly, "Hey, why don't you come back with me to my apartment? You look lonely." Weird or not, this girl was hot, and Patrick had really wanted to get laid tonight. She bowed her head, looking at the ground. Patrick's eyebrows rose in question,

"Hey are you O.K.?" He questioned her further, leaning over slightly to try and see her face. Seconds passed, and still, no response. All of a sudden, her head shot up, eyes wide – their colour completely drained – no blue, not even the black of her pupil – they were a ghastly white, like two glass orbs staring out at him.

Patrick jumped back, "No. I know what you are!" His voice trembled. He turned and ran as fast as his legs could carry him, soon they began to burn up, but he refused to slow down, after about fifteen minutes of running, he stopped. He looked around, hoping he had ran far enough to escape _her._

There was no sign of her. He was safe. He gasped in gulps of air, replenishing his body's supply of oxygen. He turned around, and came face to face with the white-eyed woman.

"No. Please." He pleaded.

Her lips moved into a small smile, wickedness burning in her empty eyes. From inside her hair she pulled out a delicately detailed knife. She sounded a sharp wail, smashing the windows of the buildings around them, and bringing Patrick helplessly to his knees in front of her. Once he was on his knees she took her knife and slashed it across his throat, stopping her piercing cry. Her appearance shifted back to its original look – red hair, pale skin, wearing a long gown that was the colour of night.

She gazed down at Patrick, who was quickly dying on the ground at her feet.

"I'm having a great evening, thank you for asking." She replied to his earlier question with a cackle, before disappearing with the breeze.

-Supernatural-

Sam was snoozing in the Impala next to Dean. They had just finished a rather difficult hunt and were in much need of rest, however, their need to put as much distance as possible between them and New York overcame all else.

Dean looked across at his brother, smiling when he saw his eyes drooping as Sam lost the battle with his heavy eye-lids, remembering that not so long ago, Sam never had the ability to fall asleep. Dean looked closely at the next road sign as he passed it, they were only 20 miles from Boston – he decided that they would try and find a motel there for the night, they couldn't deny themselves the sleep their bodies craved any longer.

Upon entering Boston, Dean pulled the Impala into the first motel he seen that looked like it would be in their price range. Looking across at Sam, who, despite his huge size, looked very small and innocent in his rested state, and deciding to let him sleep for a little while longer while he got them a room, Dean exited the Impala, closing the door as gently as possible to not wake the sleeping giant inside, and made his way over to the reception area of the motel.

Sam screamed in pain as the flames licked his body, scorching heat that he couldn't escape from no matter how he moved, then everything changed, a blade was being sliced down his arm, blood spilling out on the ground, a scream that was not his own came from his left and he saw Adam lying beside him, under similar pain, the image changed again; he was beating up some cop, Samuel was there, the image changed again; he was watching as something did something to Dean, something bad, he could tell, he just couldn't quite make it out. His vision got more and more blurry.

"Sam!"

Sam's eyes shot open. Dean was standing holding open the passenger door of the Impala, a worried look on his face.

"Dean. Where are we?" Sam questioned, still disorientated from his nightmare but wanted to take that worried look off his brother's face.

"Some motel in Boston. Dude you O.K.?" Dean asked, clearly something was wrong, something Sam wanted to avoid talking about, which in Dean's world, meant they were talking about it.

"Yeah, fine." Sam replied nonchalantly, brushing away his brother's concern.

Dean didn't move, his eyebrows raising, clearly not believing Sam. "Dean! I said I'm fine okay? Now lets go – we need some sleep." Sam continued as he unfolded himself out of the Impala, Dean stepping aside, too tired to argue with a very stubborn Sam in the middle of the night. He would talk to him tomorrow about it.

Once inside the motel room, the brother's dumped their bags on the ground first chance they got and stumbled sleepily towards the beds, before flopping down on them, fully dressed. Dean looked across at Sam who was already asleep, worry plagued his tired mind before exhaustion overcame him and he fell asleep.

-Supernatural-

The boys did not wake from their sleep until near noon the next morning. After he had showered, Sam waited for Dean to finish before going for some breakfast. While he was waiting, Sam decided to do some research on the local area, just to check if there might be a hunt here for them.

"Sam, I'm going to get breakfast – you coming or what?"

"Yep, I'm coming."

They entered the little diner, making a beeline for one of the window booths.

"Hello boys," a plump middle-aged woman came over to them with a huge smile on her face, "Are you two ready to order?"

"Yep, I'll have the special, side of bacon." Dean answered, smiling up at the waitress.

"Erm. . ." Sam started, unsure of what to choose. Everything was meaty, and probably greasy.

"He'll have the same, thanks." Dean continued for him, much to Sam's annoyance.

"Okie Dokie. You boys want coffee?"

"Yes, black, no sugar's for the two." Taking a glance at her name-tag Dean continued, "Thanks Michaela."

"That's no problem hun. I'll be back soon with your food." She replied before walking back towards the counter.

Sam pulled his laptop out of its case once she had left, opening it to the website of 'The Boston Times.' The headline at the front had caught his attention, but he never had the chance to read into it before leaving for breakfast.

"THIRD VICTIM KILLED IN NIGHT HORROR ATTACKS. Police unsure of what to do next."

"Hey Dean. I think I found us a job." Sam started after their food had arrived.

"Yeah?" Dean replied through a mouthful of bacon.

Sam looked at his brother with a look of disbelieving disgust on his face, "How do you eat so much all at the one time?"

Dean looked at Sam, annoyed but with a slight smile on his face, "It's a talent Sammy," replied Dean sarcastically, "Now will you tell me about this case?"

Sam just rolled his eyes and answered his brother, "Patrick O'Neill was the last of three victim's who had their throats slashed in the past four months." Sam paused to let Dean take in this information. "He came here seven months ago from Ireland after graduating in Journalism in college. One of his friend's, Eoghain Campbell, was the first victim. Not much info on him but he sounds like a good enough kid y'know."

"Sounds like one for us." Dean stated. "I'll go to the morgue – you go to his friends – is his family here with him?"

"No, they're flying over, should arrive tonight."

"Okay let's go." Dean rose, throwing some money on the table and exited the small diner, followed closely by Sam.

**A/N Thoughts? Do you guys like it? Please review!**

**Happy New Year by the way! :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hi! Sorry I've took so long to update this – was back to school this week and things got really busy cause I have exams in a couple of weeks, so, many apologies. I tried to make this chapter longer to make up for it :D This is one of those chapters that are essential to the story, just hard to write :L **

**Many thanks to **shock-blanket, kissacazador **and** Nerene **for reviewing the last chapter – you guys are AMAZING! And also, BIG Thank-you to those who added this story to their story alerts :D**

*** Disclaimer * They are not mine, no matter how much I wish them to be :( I just like to play around with them for a while :P **

**Chapter 2**

After leaving the small diner the boys headed back to the motel to suit up. Dean then drove Sam to the apartment block in which Patrick and his friends had been staying.

Sam stepped out of the car, looking up at the building. The door was left open, a bouquet of roses sprayed black attached to the door. He heard the Impala drive away as he walked up to the doorway, feeling slightly out of place, unsure of whether to walk in or knock the open door and wait for someone. He chose the latter, and so knocked and waited. Less than a minute later a young man arrived. His eyes were red from crying and he looked shockingly pale.

Sam introduced himself, flashing his FBI badge as he did, "Hello, my name's Agent Angus, I'm with the FBI, we're here about Patrick O'Neill's death."

The man's eyes widened at the sight of the FBI badge, "Er, yes, come on ahead in." He stated, beckoning Sam to follow him into the house, toward the kitchen. "Do you want me to call the other's down as well?"

"Sure, if you don't mind."

The young man left, Sam heard him going up the stairs to the rooms above. While he was away, Sam took a small look around the room, trying to decipher a reason to why Patrick would be killed, and his friend before him. Sam didn't even know what he was looking for and this was what he was doing when five people arrived in the doorway, led by the man who had greeted Sam at the door.

"This is all of us."

"Ok," Sam said with a friendly smile. "If I could just get all your names, that would be great."

"My name's Oran Gribbin," said the guy Sam had first met, "this is Sean O'Brien, Colm Breen, Mary Cavanagh and Roisin Kelly." Gesturing to each person as their name was called.

Sam nodded his head, giving them a small smile, "And you all arrived here together with Patrick seven months ago?"

"Yeah," they all answered in unison.

"And you were with Eoghain Campbell, who since arriving here, is also deceased around similar circumstances as Patrick. Yes?"

"Yeah." They once again answered as a group.

"O.k, I need to talk to you all about what happened last night, if that's alright?"

"Yes of course, why don't we sit down?" Oran said, gesturing to the seats around the kitchen table. They all sat, Sam smiling inwardly at the comment his brother would make if he were here to see the sickly yellow flowered cushions resting on the seats.

"So tell me, what happened last night? The police report said you were all out having a good time, but Patrick stayed behind?" Sam began, recalling some information he remembered reading in the paper.

"Yes, we were just out having a good time," Mary began, "Patrick saw this girl at the bar and started sweet-talking her y'know? When we were leaving he said he wanted to stay behind. We assumed he wanted to hook up with that girl, so we-we just l-left him t-t-there." She explained, her emotions becoming too much to control as she finished.

"Hey, it's ok." Sean said, rubbing comforting circles into Mary's back.

"It's just, I c-can't help but think, i-if we had stayed w-with him, that m-maybe he'd still be a-live." She confessed through the tears.

"Sssshhhhhh." Sean said softly in a hushed voice as Mary sat her head on his shoulder, "there's nothing we could've done."

"Mary I'm sure Sean's right. There was nothing any of you could have done." Sam comforted, feeling for the group of friends who had been struck by yet another tragedy.

"Look, now isn't really the best time, is there any way we could do this later, it's just getting too hard." Liam pleaded to Sam.

Sam looked over at Colm who, until now had remained quiet, "Just a couple more question's, I promise." Colm bowed his head, waiting for Sam to continue.

"Did Patrick have any enemies, anyone who would want to hurt him?"

"No," Sean answered, "Everyone who knew Patrick liked him, he was a real people-person, besides we haven't been here long enough to make many friends, never mind enemies."

Sam nodded, "Do you guy's know who the young lady at the bar was? We'd really like to speak with her."

"No, sorry, Patrick had just met her that night." Colm replied, shaking his head.

"Could you tell me what bar you were all at that night? Maybe someone there might know her." Sam questioned further, eyebrows raising in hope as he waited for an answer.

Oran answered him, "It was the Shamrock Bar, it's just about three blocks from here."

"O.k, I think that's it," Sam said, smiling warmly at the group, "thank you all for your time, if there's anything else we need, we'll be in touch." Sam finished as Oran led him back out the door.

-Supernatural-

Dean parked the Impala outside the hospital and took out the small tin box in the glove compartment that held all his and his brother's fake credential's. Taking out his FBI badge stating his name to be "Agent Young" he got out of the car and entered the hospital, following the signs for the morgue.

After about five minutes of searching through the hospital, he finally found the door to the entrance of the morgue. Once in, he approached the Doctor sitting at the desk who was examining a brown file. He looked up upon hearing the creak of the swinging door, closing his notes and turning his attention to the young man who had just came through it.

"Hi. I'm Agent Young from the FBI," Dean introduced himself, showing his badge, "I'm here about the death of Patrick O'Neill, I was hoping I could take a look at the body, and see that autopsy report."

The Doctor at the desk narrowed his beady old eyes, and surveyed Dean through his square glasses. "Let me see that." He said, holding his hand out for Dean's badge. Dean handed it over to him. The Doctor then examined his badge suspiciously, looking up at Dean who was waiting patiently with narrowed eyes, childishly Dean gave him a big smile, knowing it would annoy the hell out of the grumpy man in front of him.

"Alright, follow me." Doctor McGrumpy replied, handing Dean back his badge, having passed his inspection. "My name is Doctor Strapler." The Doc introduced himself as he led Dean to the third metal drawer on the wall. "Everything you need should be in there. If you need anything else, I'll be at my desk."

The Doc turned and left, Dean rolled his eyes and raised his eyebrows at his attitude, but, let it drop with a shake of his head. He pulled on a plastic disposable apron and a pair of the blue sanitary gloves that were in a box that sat on the table beside the drawers after taking off his jacket and pulled open the drawer that had been previously indicated to him.

The body was covered with a white sheet, the normal kind you see in places like this, and sitting on top was the clipboard holding the autopsy report. Dean took a look at the report before uncovering the body, wanting to know what he was about to see as he knew that reporters for newspapers usually skimmed over the more gory details. Everything was not as he expected it to be. Yes there was the slit throat described as being clean cut, but there was no bruises anywhere on the body. Dean frowned, had he not fallen to the ground after being cut with the knife? Cases like this Dean was used to seeing bruises on the victim's legs, arms, maybe even the shoulder or a hip. Even weirder was the bleeding the doctor had described that came in large amounts from his ears. The report said it was a result of busted ear drums.

Dean rolled back the sheet to take a look, an incredulous look on his face, seeing, as was described, a red tint around the young man's ears that indicated recent bleeding.

Dean finished up examining Patrick's body, and closed back up the drawer, keeping the clipboard in his hand.

"Hey Doc, any idea how his eardrums ended up bleeding so much? Seems a bit of an odd side affect of having your throat slit?" He asked when passing the Doctor's desk near the door.

"Yes, I had wondered about that. I have no idea." The Doctor said said with a shake of his head.

"No idea at all?" Dean pressed.

"Yes, that's what I said." Strapler replied, by now getting heavily annoyed at Dean's questions. "It's not my area of expertise, isn't it your job to figure out the 'how' aspect of these things. I just examine what is put in front of me, I don't waste my time speculating." Strapler sighed, brushing off Dean's curiosity.

Dean's eyebrows once again rose as a result of the Doctor's attitude. "Ok, I'll just be on my way. I'm keeping this." Dean said, gesturing to the clipboard, tired of asking the Doctor for things just to get a snarky response.

Strapler just shrugged his shoulders and nodded his head, looking back down at the notes similar to those in Dean's hand on his table.

Dean strode out of the door, glad to be gone from the morgue, surprisingly not because of the dead in there, but the living.

-Supernatural-

Sam walked down the block towards the Shamrock bar that he had been told about by Patrick's friends. He spotted it two blocks away from the apartment buildings. It was a small bar, the upbeat sound of Irish music coming from the building.

Sam entered the bar, the smell of drink hitting his nose. There wasn't very many people here as it was the middle of the day. Looking around, Sam approached the woman at the main bar.

"Hello, I'm Agent Angus, I'm with the FBI," Sam introduced himself politely, flashing his badge, "I'm investigating the death of Patrick O'Neill, his friends said he was here drinking last night before he was killed. Were you working here last night?"

The woman's eyes shifted anxiously, and she began fidgeting with her hands, "Yeah, I was. I'm Dervla."

"That's great. So Dervla, did you see anything odd here last night?"

"No, there was nothing, just a normal night."

"Do you remember seeing Patrick?"

She nodded her head, "Yeah, he was chatting to some girl for most of the night, he left when her boyfriend came though."

Sam's eyebrows rose, "Do you know who the girl was?"

"No, sorry, they've never been here before." She replied, shaking her head.

"That's fine. Thank you very much for your time, I'll let you get back to work." Sam said, giving her a friendly smile, he felt bad, she seemed really worked up over the fact she just got interviewed by a 'FBI agent.'

Once he was out of the bar again, he flipped open his phone, scrolling through his contacts looking for Dean's number, pressing the call button, he put the phone up to his ear and waited for his brother to answer.

"Sam?" Dean's voice came after two rings.

"Hey Dean, you finished yet? I need you to come pick me up."

"Yeah, I'm headin' over there now, where are you? The apartments?"

"No, I'm outside the Shamrock Bar, its a couple of blocks away from where you left me."

"Dude, drinking on the job? Your such a hypocrite, telling me off!" Sam could practically hear the smile on his brother's face as he teased him over the phone.

"I wasn't drinking Dean. Patrick was there last night before he died, I was checking things out." Sam replied, annoyed.

"Sure you were Sammy." Dean laughed.

Sam sighed, rolling his eyes, "Listen, just come pick me up ok?"

"Yeah, give me two minutes." Dean chuckled as he heard the phone go dead, signalling the end of the call.

**A/N Please tell me what you guys thought? If you do, I'll give you free virtual pie! ;) lol :P**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:**** Hey everyone! Thanks so much to **shock-blanket**, **smalld1171, kissacazador **and **Nerene!** You guys are just simply awesome! Here is your promised free virtual pie I promised you all - *v**_i_**r**_t_**u**_a_**l **_P_**i**_e* _(it's also featured in this chapter – see can you spot it :P)

**I am so sorry I haven't updated this in such a long time, what with exams and uni interviews I've had very little time to write, so thank you all for the wait! :D Not entirely happy with this chapter. Not sure why though – it just seems off – tell me all what you think :D**

*** Disclaimer – Nope not mine! Sadly. . ., Kripke's is a pretty fun sandbox to be playing in though :D**

**Chapter 3**

Sam looked around as he heard the hearty rumble of the Impala come down the street towards him. Dean slowed the beloved car to a stop beside Sam, waiting for his brother to get in. Once he was, Dean waited for a minute before driving off again.

"You find anything interesting?" Dean asked his brother.

Sam shook his head, "No, not really. They all went out for a few drinks, Patrick met a girl, stayed to chat her up. He left when her boyfriend showed. But, no-one seems to know who this girl is or seen her before." Sam sighed as he summarised the information he had found.

"Not surprising in a big city like this I guess." Dean replied. "Well, I really think we need to check out the crime scene. Patrick's eardrums were busted. Now I'm no expert, but I'd say that's a pretty uncommon side affect to having your throat slit."

"Yeah, you think?" Laughed Sam, as Dean turned the car and headed toward the crime scene.

Five minutes later they arrived at the scene. Not surprisingly, there was yellow police tape still blocking off the small alleyway.

The Winchester's stepped out of the Impala, showing their badges to the policeman guarding the scene and ducking under the tape. Glass was scattered everywhere, and there was a big patch of blood in between the buildings on either side of them.

"Where'd all the glass come from?" Dean speculated.

Sam looked around, and then looked up. Seeing the windows of the tall buildings beside them all smashed, he nudged Dean's arm, and pointed up.

"The windows?" Dean asked.

"Looks like." Sam replied.

"How did they smash all the way up there?" Dean further questioned, eyebrows scrunching together in confusion.

"Beats me." Sam replied. They looked around the ground for anything that might indicate what they were dealing with, but there was nothing. Judging from the evidence here, it looked like Patrick had simply smashed all the windows around him before slitting his own throat, which they knew would never have happened.

It was not long before they walked back towards the Impala. They were both slightly dumbfounded, unsure of what they should do next. They had hoped examining the scene would resolve some issues and questions they had, but instead it had done the opposite, forming new questions that they had no answer to and still leaving them stumped to the identity of what they were hunting.

**-Supernatural- **The next day** -Supernatural-**

"Got the police reports." Dean announced as he entered the small motel room. "Guess what?"

Sam looked up from his laptop, "What?"

"The other two victims, Eoghain Campbell and the other guy called Michael Colton, both had blood coming from their ears." Dean stated, smirking as he evaluated his brothers reaction to this news.

"Huh." Sam replied, displaying his oh-so-famous sturgeon-face.

"And, get this, any windows around the crime scene were smashed. The police think the murders are connected to robberies, probably best they could come up with." Dean joked.

"So," Sam started, "the victims were all men, they all had their throats slashed and their ears were all bleeding." He summarised.

"Yep, pretty much. Oh, and Patrick's family are here to collect his body." Dean called over his shoulder as he headed for the kitchen. "Dude did you get me pie?"

"Yeah, it's in the bag." Sam replied, shaking his head once again at his brother's obsession with pie.

Dean rustled through the white plastic bag sitting on the work-top, smirking when he found his pie.

"Yes!" He chuckled, "Blueberry!"

Sam looked over at his brother, "Finish that, then we'll go talk to Patrick's parents. I'm pretty sure they'll be at his old apartment."

Dean nodded his head, "So long as your pretty sure." He replied with a full mouth.

Sam smiled, "Really pretty sure."

**-Supernatural-**

Dean stopped the Impala outside Patrick's apartment building. It looked much the same as it had the day before when Sam had came, except this time, the door was closed. The Winchester's stepped out of the car, fixing their suits as they walked across the road to the apartments opposite.

Dean knocked on the door, looking across at Sam before digging his hand into his jacket pocket, getting ready to show his badge.

One of the guys Sam had met the day before answered the door. Sam was pretty sure his name was Colm. "Hey, guys, look I'm sorry, this isn't really a good time." He said once he recognised Sam.

"Look, it will only take a few minutes. We need to see Patrick's family." Sam pleaded, puppy-eyes on full blow.

Colm looked into the house, then back at the brothers, before nodding and opening the door, a look of worry and sadness on his face.

"Follow me."

Colm led them down into the living room of the house. It was decorated with warm colours, all peaches and browns. There was a little electric fire dancing in the fireplace which had comfy looking chairs and a couch around it. It was a cosy little place, and sitting on the couch closest the small, artificial fire, was who the Winchester's presumed to be Mr and Mrs O'Neill.

Sam looked over to Colm for confirmation on the identity of the couple on the couch, eyebrows raised in question. Colm nodded, understanding what Sam wanted to know.

"Mr and Mrs O'Neill?" Sam asked, causing the couple to look up at him in response. "My name's Agent Angus, I'm with the FBI. This is my partner, Agent Young." Sam introduced them, indicating to himself and Dean as they showed their badges. "We wanted to ask you a few questions about your son."

They just dazedly nodded, eyes downcast, looking at the ground below them. "Please, sit." Mrs O'Neill asked. "Colm? Get these young men a nice cup of tea, it would be rude not to." She ordered.

"Of course." Colm replied with a small smile. "Do you boys take sugar? Milk?"

"No sugar, just milk." Sam replied. Colm looked at Dean expectantly.

"Same as him." Dean answered Colm before he left the room, heading for the kitchen.

"Both sweet enough I see." Mrs O'Neill stated quietly.

"Sorry?" Sam asked politely.

"Patrick never took sugar in his tea either. We used to joke that it was because he was already sweet enough without needing more sugar." Mrs O'Neill explained, sighing as she became lost in an old memory.

"Look, we're just going to cut right to the chase so we can get out of your hair as soon as possible." Dean began, "We were wondering if anything odd had ever happened to Patrick?"

"Odd?" Mr O'Neill questioned.

"Yeah, like, weird. Different. Anything like that y'know." Dean said, his mouth curling into a charming smile as he did.

The elderly couple thought for a moment. "There was this one time." Mr O'Neill started, the wrinkles in his face seeming to deepen, his eyes darken. Suddenly he looked much older than he had before. He took in a deep breath before beginning his story. "Years ago, Patrick must've only been about eighteen, he had just only passed his driving test. We had got him a car, a shabby little thing, barely ran, but boy did he love it." He chuckled at the memory of his son, so full of life, such a short time ago, and the excitement and pride in his face when he had saw his car for the first time.

"He drove everywhere, and always jumped at the chance to take his friends somewhere in the car, he was so eager to show it off. He would drive them to school, cinema, nights out, anywhere. About two months after he got his car, Patrick headed up to collect Colm. Him and the boys were going to go out to the cinema, they were going to meet some girls." Sam and Dean smiled lightly, listening intently to the old man's story. "That night. . .It was stormy. The wind shook the trees with more force than I would have thought possible, the rain fell in buckets and the lightening flashed across the sky every few minutes." Mr O'Neill continued in his gravelly voice. "Colm lived up a back lane, on top of a hill.

On the way back from his house, Patrick, Colm, Eoghain and Oran, who had all joined Patrick at Colm's, were driving down the lane. I don't know how it happened, but the car went into a hedge on the side of the road, causing a tree to fall on top of it. They-they were all stuck." Mr O'Neill said, stopping for a minute, his voice beginning to shake.

"What happened?" Dean questioned, encouraging the man to continue his story.

"When we didn't see them come down from the lane, we got worried. So, we called Colm's parents, we could barely hear them the phone reception had gotten so bad, but we gathered that the boys had left Colm's house quite some time ago." Mr O'Neill looked down at his feet, his whole body was shaking from the emotional exhaustion of telling the story.

"Mr O'Neill? Sir? Are you okay?" Sam questioned in his emotive, but authoritative voice. Sam looked over at Dean, uncharacteristically unsure of what to do, Dean just subtly shrugged his shoulders, signifying that he had no idea either. "I mean, they must've all been fine, right? If they all made it here."

"Yes dear, they were." Mrs O'Neill answered Sam in a kind voice, "It is what we saw when we went up to look for our son that scares us."

"What did you see?" Sam and Dean answered in unison, eager to know more of the story.

"There was a woman. She was standing, floating, whatever, over the car. When we arrived at the scene, she was crying." Mr O'Neill described, looking up at the brothers, his eyes telling of his desperation for them to believe him. "A real sharp wail, y'know?" Sam and Dean nodded, understanding what the man meant.

"She was beautiful. Her skin pure white, almost glowing. She had a long white gown on her, she might have been about twenty. We were confused as to how she got there, but we never got to ask. Soon as she saw us, she vanished in a blink of an eye." Mr O'Neill finished with a bitter tone.

Both Sam and Dean's eyebrows shot up, baffled at the man's description of what had happened. Mr O'Neill's lips curled into a small smile upon seeing their expressions. "That's not even the strangest thing." He continued. "When she was disappearing, there were these -these" he stuttered as he tried to find the right word, "these . . . bursts of energy – they came off her and went into the car where the boys were. They looked like little ghosty orbs. We didn't understand it, and a couple of seconds after they went into the car, we could hear noise coming from inside from all four of the boys, when before we could hear nothing at all. Just some coughing, or groaning. It was strange, it seemed like the woman had been absorbing their life energy, or life force, and when she was interrupted, it was like she was scared away. But we worried that if this was true, she might come back and finish what she had started. " Mr O'Neill looked up at Sam and Dean, his eyes formed tunnels of despair, "It looks like she has. You probably think us foolish, but we were raised to accept myths and legends for what they are. "

Sam and Dean shot glances at each other, unsure of where this new lead was going to bring them, as they had never heard of any creature doing what the old man in front of them had just described. They thanked the old couple for their time, not wanting to press the O'Neill's any furhter, as they looked already too shaken by the questioning, so they left and headed back to the motel.

**-Supernatural-**

"What could do something like that Dean?" Sam was sitting at his computer, he had searched for myhts, or legends connected to beautiful women and 'white orbs' (which he was unsure even existed). Several legends had came up, and he was finding it hard to narrow it down – they were all pretty much the same, and of course, all including a pretty woman who sucked life energy from humans. He asked Dean, hoping, probably in vain, that his brother might have had in the last hour, an epiphany, telling him exactly what they were hunting.

"I don't know, Paris Hilton?" Dean joked in reply to Sam.

Sam, however was not in the mood, "What?"

"Mmm you're right, it's not really her thing." Dean nodded, enjoying winding up his brother.

"Dean. Can we take this seriously? People are dying!"

"I am taking it seriously!" Dean retorted. When Sam's only reaction was to look back at his computer screen, Dean said, "Bitch."

The corner's of Sam's mouth turned up into a slight smile, oddly comforted by the old teasing comments between him and Dean, "Jerk." He replied.

"Hang on, Dean? I think I found something."

"What is it?" Dean replied, the excitement in Sam's voice triggering his interest.

"An Angel of Death." Sam replied, "What?" He continued when he saw Dean's eyebrows raised.

"Don't you think Cas would've came and told us if it was an angel doing all this? And I thought Death, as in the horseman, was the angel of death?" Dean challenged, sure that his friend would've told them, maybe even assisted them, if what was happenning was a result of angel activity.

"Not necessarily. There can be more than one of a particular type of angel, take cupid, for example. Plus, there's a war in heaven remember? Cas is busy, and this particular angel might be fighting in Raphael's corner." Sam explained logically, smiling as Dean nodded his head in agreement of his points. "Call him."

Dean looked over at Sam, annoyance in his eyes, "You call him! I always do, gonna start to feel like a desperate twelve year old girl with a new crush."

"Dean." Sam replied, using what could only be explained as his'mom' voice.

"Fine." Dean replied, closing his eyes and awkwardly sitting down on the bed. "Earth calling Castiel," Dean made up, trying to figure out what to say, "and praying that he will get his feathery ass down here and party with us humans for a while."

"Hello Dean. Sam. You called?" Dean's eyes shot open upon hearing Castiel's familiar gravelly voice, seeing the angel standing by the window at the opposite side of the motel. Dean had to give it to Cas, he had definitely gotten better at this whole 'personal space' thing.

"Yeah Cas, it's about this thing we're hunting. It takes the form of a beautiful woman, and apparantly, has the power to absorb the life force, like soul, of a person." Sam explained, getting right to the point. "We think it's an angel of death."

"No. It's not an Angel." Cas replied in his monotoned voice.

"You're sure? I mean, the legend is pretty close to what we've heard." Sam asked, he had been pretty sure he was right when he first came across the site.

Cas glared at Sam, "I'm sure. There has been no angel activity in this town until five minutes ago, when I arrived. Is there anything else you know?"

"Well. . ." Sam began, thinking through what he remembered about the case.

"The windows on the crime scene were all smashed? Does that qualify?" Dean offered.

Castiel thought for a moment, eyebrows scrunching together as he did. Sam and Dean waited patiently, well almost patiently.

"It doesn't sound like an angel of death." Cas simply stated, looking over at the brother's.

"Well what then?" Sam pressed.

Cas cast his eyes to the ground, "It sounds more like a sister of death, but gone rogue. You would know her as a banshee."

**A/N: So. . . What did you all think? :D My first time writing Castiel! Hope it went ok! Thanks for reading – free virtual cake for all who reviews this chapter ;)**


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